Today is Thanksgiving. No I’m not American but my mother-in-law is a native of Boston and so every year the in-laws embrace the chance to have turkey in November. Usually the event takes place at my house (we have a very large kitchen) but this year my sister in law has decided that she wants to host it. I have no idea how we are all going to fit in and my inner control freak is not happy about the arrangement as sister-in-law is a confirmed shunner of vegetables so I have no idea how successful she is going to be when it comes to cooking them. I’m just a little bit afraid, especially as I’m not sure what wacky turns my morning sickness may take when it comes to sitting down at the dinner table.
We still haven’t told the in-laws and today I have been trying on a number of outfits that minimise the look of “the bump.” I may have to dodge some awkward questions too as one of my sisters-in-law knows that we were ttc but I’m just not ready to share the news with them yet. I like this being a relatively private thing (blogs aside) and I’m not convinced we’re going to get a lovely response either so I’ll drop the b-bomb on my terms thank you very much.
I’m not liking myself much at the moment. I think the hormones are turning me into a mega-bitch. My fuse is short, my patience non-existent and the kids are irritating the crap out of me. Maybe my view of the world is distorted but they seem to be so much more difficult than they were a few weeks ago. Squish has dived headlong into the terrible twos (her favourite word is “no”, there is no room for negotiation and her default position is to scream) and the boy….. well the Boy can be the most amazing, funny, kind, thoughtful little creature one minute and the spawn of Satan the next. He’s very fond of calling people Butt Heads at the moment (blame the eldest child for that one) and blowing raspberries. I want to duct tape his mouth to keep his tongue inside it. But I won’t because I know it is temporary hormonal madness and at least as much my fault as it is their’s, I’m not hot on the whole paying endless attention at the minute because I’m devoting so much of my time to trying not to puke. When I am in good attentive mammy organised activity mode they are a dream, when I am attempting to do anything else they make me want to scream. I seem to recall having similar rage issues in a previous pregnancy but I can’t remember which one it was, was it the girls or the boy? I have no idea. I don’t think it lasted the entire length of the pregnancies though as I still have friends and family who speak to me and my husband hasn’t run off yet.